Clever. Reminds me of the time I was doing push ups one morning when our dog, a surly Shi-tzu called Gizmo, decided to get underneath me with the resulting headbutt breaking my glasses. I had to go to work with sticky tape holding them together. Not happy.

I have no suggestions for your H post, but whatever you come up with will be quite brilliant I'm sure. Oh, what about headbanging (that's my A to Z theme) Visit Square Pegs for inspiration. ;-)

I'm impressed by the push-ups DA! I used to work out but since I've been back in full-time employment finding the time to do anything but stay on top of everything and I've done zero writing - hence making concerted effort to do A to Z even when I'm knackered - hoping the momentum will carry me forward into completing the sequel to my novel and/or other writing.

You know I never really know what I'm going to write about until the very last minute - but then that's half the fun! Headbanging is lodged in my brain though so who know....

Oh yes Bellybytes I know that feeling. Sometimes I don't even know my own kids names and have to run through the list (sometimes several times) before I get the right name! Fortunately, they find it funny. I just worry about it as I don't even have dementia yet... things can only get worse!

When my Mum stayed with us briefly before being admitted to a care home due to Alzheimer's she lost her glasses. We searched high and low and of course it was all my fault. What I wasn't accused of doing isn't worth mentioning. I finally tried to put myself in her shoes and go through her actions and discovered them inside a box of tissues next to her bed. She'd obviously got into bed, taken them off and then, for reasons best known to her, she'd pushed them inside the tissue box. Except of course she hadn't. Wouldn't possibly have done that. It was still my fault.

That's what I always do, Wendy - try and think logically. This is after many many years ago when I was about to take my driving test and couldn't find my provisional driving licence. I ripped the house apart looking for it but nevertheless had to cancel my exam (much to my disappointment at the very last moment.) I then decided to go back and look for it logically - and yes it was in the place I'd thought I'd left it - my handbag. In a slim zipped pocket I'd overseen in my panic....My motto is always go back to the place it should be. (Although that didn't work for my car keys which I found in the bin covered in spaghetti bolognese!)

Having to use reading glasses so much lately, is such a pain and I hate it. They are always on my head or tip of my nose. I didn't realize so many years ago that I should have better appreciated my eyesight. Your life depends upon it.

Popular posts from this blog

I know, I know, I should have done my homework but I didn’t. Apparently there are lots of mad housewives; well I know this is true because madness is actually a very serious affliction which can become highly contagious particularly if you’ve been at home for at least 10 years. (Or in my case about approaching 17 as I managed to get pregnant on my wedding night.) It was a very (clears throat with embarrassment) “productive” wedding night, which is quite surprising really as some over zealous friends stole everything from our hotel bedroom except the towels. (Oh and I also locked Mr Turley in the bedroom the next morning so he couldn’t have any breakfast by which time folks he was in dire need of vital nourishment.) Anyway the product was Master Samuel who arrived (genuinely) 5 weeks early to sound of much tut-tut ting from aged maiden aunts. Thus I have remained, bar a few brief interlude…

Well, it wasn’t long after I’d finished posting yesterday when Usha left her comment asking me if I was going to be allowed a period of mourning for the beloved washing machine. She’s quite right, of course, an item that has served the household with such honour should be given the send off it deserves. However, Mr Turley in his eagerness to install the replacement which arrives tomorrow has already dragged it, huffing and puffing, out onto the driveway awaiting the Deliverers of the New Washer who are to remove it for the unwholesome sum of £15.

Now I’ve never known Mr Turley to be so generous in the disposal of any item before; he has cut up sofas, paving slabs, cabinets and various household accoutrements in order to avoid paying refuse charges. But not this time, his is unbearably eager for the replacement as he knows his life will not be worth living if it is not installed promptly. However, I have suggested a number of more attractive disposal options, including;

Mrs Turley, Housewife extraordinaire is in very deep trouble Readers; I am under house arrest. Yes, at this very moment two (lovely) young gentlemen from Her Majesty’s Secret Service are standing to attention outside my door. Why? I hear you say… Well, it happened like this…

Mr Turley forbade me from doing any more blogging until the house was spick and span and I’d completed all my charitable deeds for the boy’s sports clubs. So by last night I was wild, livid, and prepared finally to throw the tea towel in; I could stand no more of this drudgery and so I planned a cunning escape. Having failed with the tunnel, I decided to take the more conniving route of escape... Through the front door in the early hours (Mr Turley would never expect such blatant audacity) and Mr Turley who sleeps like an elephant (and makes a similar sound too) would not hear me and I would slip quietly away into the night…

And so I packed my handbag with all the necessary items I needed to start a new life;